


Finding Your Heart

by SubtextEquals



Category: Spartacus Series (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canonical Character Death, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-07
Updated: 2015-03-07
Packaged: 2018-03-16 16:38:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3495407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SubtextEquals/pseuds/SubtextEquals
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When another Dominus purchases Agron and Duro, they find themselves in a foreign world. One that has been easily navigated by Nasir. Yet new complications arise as love grows between him and Agron, and with them comes danger.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Finding Your Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Big thanks to gedre-yashel for being my beta and providing much needed feedback.

Agron had known what would become of him and his brother since the moment they were captured. He knew that, in time, his feet would bring him on this path, to the market to be sold along with the rest of his kinsmen. He and Duro had already passed hands twice, from the Roman soldiers to the slaver who transported them, and now to some fuck called Trebius. In that time, Duro had not been parted from him. Once again, as he heard the chatter of Romans and saw the vacant expressions of the other slaves to be bartered, that became a possibility.

A glance at his brother told him that Duro too was in a state of unease though one slap on the legs with a thick leather strap caused him to glare. Agron was fairly sure that he and his brother both wanted to strangle Trebius using that same item.

He scanned the crowd. They were all old fucks, attended to by their body slaves, each considerably younger. One in particular caught his eye and if he were free and far from this place of the damned, he might have struck up a conversation with the slim, dark eyed man and see if he could run his hands through that long hair. As it was, he’d just been gestured forward. The bidding started. He glanced at his brother, jaw clenched.

The bids for him rose higher until the dominus of the slave he’d taken note of was declared his owner. Next was Duro. His eyes remained fixed on the fuck who’d bought him as he kept bidding until a similar number was met, fourteen. Finally, Agron could breathe easy when he won the bidding. They were to be sold together. As he turned his gaze away, it locked briefly with the body slave by his dominus’s side. In his eyes lay a flicker of curiosity before the man glanced away.

Putting him from his mind, Agron nudged his brother and gave him an encouraging smile. Whatever happened, at least they were together.

 

Their dominus made no introductions when they were handed over to him, nor did he remove their manacles. Instead he led them back to his villa with his amanuensis trailing behind both of them. Every so often Agron glanced behind him to see the man but he kept his eyes forward and his face impassive. Once, he looked back and shook his head, then nodded ahead of him in a sign that Agron should also keep looking ahead. After that he did but only to take more note of the streets, then the long road through the country. He might have a use for this knowledge if he and Duro were to escape.

Once they reached the villa and the guards had closed the doors behind them, only then did his new dominus turn to address them.

“I am Claudius Livius Flavius, your dominus. You are to serve me not as common slaves but as body guards. Fail in this task and you will be nailed to cross.”

Body guards. Agron did his best not to snort. What kind of fuck was this? Too cheap to hire more guards for him or did the ones he have not even care enough to step outside the villa?

The shit droned on about responsibilities but once it was clear that nothing of note was being said, Agron stopped paying attention to him, instead sneaking glances at the villa-- and the body slave by his dominus’s side. He kept averting his gaze from Agron’s.

“Tiberius,” Flavius snapped suddenly. “See them bathed and clothed.”

The body slave, Tiberius, nodded. “Yes, Dominus.” He gave one more nod, this time at Agron and Duro before walking back into the villa.

Out of the corner of his eye, Agron saw Duro glance at him. He gestured his head forward. They didn’t have much of an option at this point. Any plans they would make had to wait until later.

They followed Tiberius, passing other slaves, some of whom gave them curious glances while others went about their business. Agron was unaccustomed to the grandness of the villa. It was full of columns, a mosaic floor beneath him, and a pool in the center of the room. But he was led through the kitchens, which were a considerably drabber section of the place. Through there were the baths and, after grabbing a jug and a scraping tool of some sort, Tiberius finally turned to him. It was almost a pity. If there was one thing he’d enjoyed during the walk here, or since coming to this fucking place, it had been seeing the muscles of Tiberius’s back move as he walked. But then he looked at him and once again he was staring into those eyes. If only they held some life in them.

“Remove cloth, pour oil over body, and use this.” Tiberius handed the jug first to Agron, who exchanged a look with his brother.

Oil and not water?

“ _Fucking Romans,_ ” his brother spoke in German, laughing.

“Break words only in Latin or risk whip striking skin,” Tiberius warned.

Agron rolled his eyes at Duro. “And you,” he said to Tiberius. “What language did you speak before capture? You’re too dark for a fair Roman name.”

“Latin is all I know now.” Seeing that Agron was not going to act, Tiberius moved to pour the oil over his body and Agron only just had time to remove his loincloth before it cascaded over him. Once that was done, Tiberius moved on to Duro.

“Were you born here?” Agron pressed again, knowing that was unlikely given the trace of an accent Tiberius had.

“No,” was the only response he received before Tiberius handed him the strange tool.

He took it and stared at it.

“It is a strigil,” Tiberius explained, his eyes taking in both brothers’ confused faces. “Used to scrape off oil.” He took the tool back, reached out, and rubbed the oil over Agron’s chest before letting the metal slide over his skin to push the oil down and collect it.

“You have skilled hands.” Agron smiled.

Tiberius only gave him a warning look as he thrust the tool back in his hand. He stepped out of the room and called into the kitchen. “Tell Chadara to fetch clothes.” He turned back. Agron just barely caught his eyes flicker down his body.

At least some indignities were worth it.

Duro didn’t think so as he nudged Agron with his elbow and gave him a look. Agron simply shrugged.

“ _I need something to enjoy in this fucking place._ ” Despite Tiberius’s scolding, he spoke in German, prompting the body slave to shake his head but say nothing more.

If he understood what the subject of discussion might have been, he didn’t show it.

 

The slaves quarters were not enough for individuals. Now that Agron was in the same room with them, he saw that there were around twenty other slaves, Tiberius included. With nothing more than a pallet provided to them, Agron sat with his back against the wall. Sleep was not something he would find this night.

“ _How the fuck are we supposed to get out of this shithole?_ ” Duro asked him in a lowered voice, speaking in their native tongue.

Agron stared at the crowd of slaves, who found no trouble in rest, no doubt due to how hard they had worked. “ _We will have opportunity to see both city and country by following that shit. We’ll cut his throat one day and escape._ ”

Duro looked at him expectantly for more but Agron turned his head to him and shook it.

“ _I’m no fucking mastermind, Duro or we wouldn’t be here._ ” The words came out harsher than he meant and he saw someone stir-- Tiberius, who cracked his eyes open to regard him for a moment. He heard a slight sigh before his eyes slid closed again.

“ _Fucking Romans,_ ” Duro grumbled before lying down.

Agron remained sitting, working his mind around what he had seen that day and how he might make use of it. But finally he attempted sleep as well.

 

In the morning they collared both him and Duro. It constricted his throat and rubbed his skin raw. He could feel the welts forming. Then came the brand, a burn on his right calf muscle. CLF. Duro endured the same.

Agron grit his teeth as Tiberius poured water over it to cleanse the injury. “There’s no fucking brand on you. Why do I need this?”

Tiberius moved around to Agron’s front. After staring at him for a moment, he turned and swept back his long hair to reveal the same brand, if smaller, on his nape. “All slaves are marked such,” he said. He let his hair slip from his hand, falling back into place.

Agron’s mouth pulled into a frown as his nostrils flared. At the same time he resisted the urge to rub the back of his leg to ease the pain, knowing that would only make things worse.

“Why were you branded on neck?”

Tiberius faced them. “To hide marred flesh from sight.”

“Why?”

“Dominus does not desire to lay eyes upon it.” He moved to Duro, who held up his hands.

“I do not require it,” Duro protested.

“Apologies,” Tiberius said before letting the water flow over the burn.

Duro swore in German.

“You will do yourselves no favors speaking in that tongue.” Tiberius straightened and caught Agron’s eye. “Voices carried to ear last night. Whatever your thoughts, turn from them. Gain favor and you will find burden easier to bear.”

“I would rather see another weigh heavy on body.” Agron smiled.

For a moment, the corners of Tiberius’s lips flickered up into a smile before their dominus entered.

“You will attend me at market,” he said. “Tiberius.”

Tiberius dutifully walked to his dominus, keeping directly behind him and to his side. He kept his head bowed.

“And you.” He gestured to both Agron and Duro.

“Fuck ass if you want us to attend you,” Duro snapped.

“Fucking idiot,” Agron said just before Flavius backhanded his brother.

He stepped forward, ready to take action now but Tiberius quickly placed himself between them. “Do not lay hands on him,” he hissed, “or see us all to afterlife.”

Agron moved for his dominus again but Tiberius seized his arms, his fingers digging in to hold him back.

“Take pause.” There was a ferocity in the little man’s voice that reached Agron, making him stop.

Misguided and obedient though Tiberius was, the spirit in that voice did not belong to a slave.

“Tiberius, see to it that this one is chained then join me at gate.”

Agron opened his mouth to protest his brother’s punishment but Tiberius gave him a silencing look before he turned his gaze to Duro. “Come.”

Agron clenched his hands into fists as Tiberius led his brother away. He glared at his dominus. If what Tiberius voiced was true then he couldn’t act now.

“Will you prove as troublesome?”

“No.” Agron lied.

“No?”

It took Agron a moment before he realized what he was supposed to say and he bared his teeth at the thought. “No, Dominus.”

 

The market was as loud as Agron remembered but less oppressive as they did not venture to where the slaves were auctioned. He still remembered the vacant stares of the whores to be sold, knowing their fate. Now his dominus was more concerned with matters of supplying his house with goods and trading his fortunes for more investments. In other words, incredibly boring things. He would rather be chained with his brother. He would have better company for Tiberius said nothing, even when Agron caught his eye and smiled at him. The man might as well be a fucking statue for all the response he gave.

Time to try another tactic. “Do you often see slaves bound?” he asked after looking at his dominus, confirming that he was too busy to hear.

Tiberius’s eyes narrowed and he cast a meaningful glance at their dominus. “It is not often needed.”

“You believe we should lay back with legs spread and accept--”

Tiberius grabbed his arm to call attention to Flavius’s negotiations concluding. Agron closed his mouth but he did not stop looking at Tiberius, who was again still and showed no sign that he’d heard him.

Tiberius remained that way until they arrived at the villa. Agron momentarily stepped in front of him and when he turned back he caught the body slave’s gaze significantly lower than eye level. Caught, Tiberius quickly looked aside while Agron smirked.

Not a statue after all.

 

Duro rubbed at his wrists, newly freed, and glared in the direction of their dominus’s room. The sounds of Flavius fucking one of his slaves echoed down the hall he and Agron stood in.

“Fucking ass,” Duro muttered.

“He may yet be doing that.” Agron held no pleasure at the thought, only disgust.

They remained largely in silence, sometimes attempting conversation, always scowling, until the blond haired slave left. Around ten minutes later, Tiberius followed.

“Come,” he spoke in a lowered voice. “I would break words.”

Agron caught Duro’s eye and nodded as they both fell into step beside Tiberius.

“If you have thoughts of escape, they will capture you and brand you fugitivus. If you make attempt on dominus and spill his blood, you will see all his slaves to their deaths.” Tiberius paused. “Such is Roman law.”

“You think that subject of discussion?” Agron asked.

“You are not first to consider it,” Tiberius answered.

“Have you?” The question was posed from Duro’s mouth.

“I came here as child and was well rewarded. I have no desire for freedom or misguided vengeance.”

“Misguided?” Duro snapped, taking a step forward.

Agron reached out to block his path with his arm. “Rewarded? To wait on dominus while he fucks slaves?”

Tiberius’s eyes flickered, something dark lurking behind them, something that he must have hidden but now finally rose to the surface before submerging. “I have position.” He nearly hissed the words. “I will not sacrifice it so I may starve, if not sent to mines. What choice would freedom give me?”

“Everything in the fucking world,” Agron told him.

Tiberius shook his head. “A world that will fall from sight once I lose breath.” He began to walk again, signaling an end to the conversation. One that Agron did not accept as he caught up to him.

“Do you not recall a time when choice was presented instead of fucking command?”

They approached the entrance to the slaves’ quarters and Tiberius halted outside of it.

“I barely recall name given to me.”

“What is it?” Agron asked, fully expecting to receive no answer.

“Nasir,” he said before slipping inside. By the time Agron followed, Tiberius, or Nasir rather, was halfway to his pallet.

Agron took a seat on his own pallet and Duro beside him, giving him a rather pointed look.

“ _What?_ ” Agron spoke in German.

“ _You want to fuck him._ ”

Agron snorted. “ _If he had more spirit in him._ ”

 

More spirit was not something that Nasir displayed in any manner when around their dominus. At night, however, the mask he wore slipped as he escorted them back to their room.

“Nasir,” Agron began as they started back.

“I do not answer to that name.”

“You would have them strip memory of your past from you?” He could almost feel Duro rolling his eyes at him. As far as he was concerned, these talks with Nasir were a waste of time. Agron resisted the urge to shove him for it.

“Little memory remains.”

“Of family?”

Nasir’s body stiffened and he glanced back at Agron for a moment before resuming his walk. “I recall a brother. That is all.”

“One the Romans tore from you?” Agron knew that if anything would get a reaction from Nasir, it would be that. The loss of his own family had been heavy on Agron. It was the same for Duro as well. The thought of never seeing them again was not quite something he had swallowed.

“They must have,” Nasir’s response was quiet.

He didn’t even remember losing his brother.

Agron’s lips drew back in an almost snarl. “They should suffer for taking him from your fucking side.”

Nasir stopped entirely now. “Break no more words on subject. I will not fucking speak of it again.”

Agron halted. The anger fell from his face once he realized he’d overstepped. And yet he’d still gotten a rise out of Nasir, still managed to bring out the person he wanted to see beneath the hardened exterior.

“Apologies.” And he meant it. But the smile on Agron’s face once Nasir turned around again was likely entirely inappropriate. He didn’t care, even when Duro elbowed him for it. He did, however, jab Duro in response and received an arm around his neck in return.

“ _Get off, goat fucker!_ ” Agron laughed as he threw his brother off of him. At least he had not been lost to Agron.

He looked up in time to see Nasir’s faint smile before the expression left him and he moved away.

 

As usual, they stood outside their dominus’s room at night. And as usual, he was fucking some slave. Agron slumped back against the wall, trying to tune out the sound and focus instead on something-- anything-- else but the revulsion still filled him. Though not nearly as much as the flash of anger at one name spoken in a commanding tone.

“Tiberius.”

Agron knew the meaning of what he said after that but he could barely make it out through the blood rushing through his veins. Immediately he sprang off the wall and moved for the entrance. Duro stepped in front of him and pushed him back.

“ _Stop this, brother._ ”

Agron barely saw him. His vision had narrowed or rather it had jumped ahead, into that room. Picturing what was about to happen as Nasir took off his clothes and-- “ _He’ll have his fucking hands on him!_ ”

“ _We can’t stop him._ ” Duro grabbed Agron’s arm and dragged him away, down to their slaves quarters.

“ _I’ll fucking kill him._ ”

“ _Not today._ ”

His blood still raced through his body, turning his face and neck red, rage overtaking him. It did not abate even as Duro shoved him down onto his pallet.

When Nasir arrived to sleep, he gave Agron one brief, subdued look, before retiring for the night. He found sleep. Agron didn’t.

 

When Agron woke, it was to someone gently shaking his arm.

“Agron.” His name came from Nasir’s lips.

He finally stirred and rolled onto his back so he could look up at his only friend here, one who’d been used last night while Agron did nothing.

“Dominus requires us,” Nasir said before letting go of him and standing, leaving behind only a spark of pleasure where his hand had been.

“Fuck that shit,” Agron growled but he sat up.

“ _Didn’t sleep well?_ ” Duro asked as he hauled Agron up without giving him any warning.

“ _No._ ”

“If tongue continues to speak German soon I will learn what words you break.” Nasir lingered just inside the room. It was all the warning he gave them lately over speaking their native language. As long as they didn’t do it in front of their dominus, he didn’t seem to care anymore.

About now was the time that Agron would have made some comment, say about how he could think of better uses for his tongue, but after what he’d heard last night-- after what had happened-- even the thought of that insinuation left him burning.

Seeing that look, Nasir faltered for a moment. His lips parted as though to speak but it took him a moment. “I will see to dominus while you ready self.”

“See to him in what way?” Agron asked and Duro shoved at his shoulder.

Nasir inclined his head in his direction, fixed him with a stare, and said “in whatever way he desires.”

“Fuck his desires!” Agron snarled. The remaining slaves all turned their eyes on him.

Nasir’s expression didn’t change though it was not neutral. Rather he looked almost sad. “I am left absent choice. It gives me position.”

Duro snorted. “Position as whore.”

It happened in a moment. The resigned look on Nasir’s face morphed into rage. He lunged for Duro and Agron just barely got in between them before any blow landed.

Though Agron couldn’t blame him. Why that asshole would say that-- “Duro, _close fucking mouth!_ ”

“ _Of course you defend this shit!_ ” Duro yelled back. “ _You want your cock inside him._ ”

“ _Shut up!_ ” Agron shoved Nasir away from him and stepped directly in front of his brother. “ _He’s my fucking friend, you shit eater._ ”

“ _Friend?_ ” Duro glared past Agron and at Nasir. “ _All he cares about is serving his dominus._ ”

“ _You--_ ” Agron took a step forward but this time Nasir reversed their positions, holding him back.

A quick glance at him told Agron that his anger had cooled although when his gaze fell on Duro it was less than pleased. “You are brothers. Continue to treat each other as such and see bond broken and one sold,” he said before leaving them behind.

Agron and Duro stared at each other for a moment.

“ _Apologies,_ ” both of them mumbled almost at the same time.

“ _I yet do not care for him,_ ” Duro continued.

“ _I give no shit if you do._ ”

Duro shrugged. Agron shot him a dark look before leaving to follow Nasir.

 

None of them spoke again about what transpired that night or the morning that followed. Instead, Agron and Duro stood watch over their dominus while Nasir attended his needs. But the next time their dominus wanted to fulfill his sexual appetites, he turned to a brothel instead. They waited outside while he fucked some poor whore. Agron and Duro exchanged glances while Nasir stared ahead, avoiding the sight of everyone else in the middle of sex.

“Why does he need this?” Duro asked.

“I do not question Dominus’s desires,” Nasir answered.

“Do you?” Agron spoke this time.

Nasir shook his head slightly.

Again met with silence, Agron searched for another subject to draw him out. One that did not touch on the abuse Nasir took. “Before-- the words you broke to Duro and I, what of your brother?” The question had been slowly eating at Agron until he finally gave voice to it.

Nasir’s eyes were wider when he turned to Agron before narrowing back to their normal state. “Straighten words to plainer speech.”

“Have you given thought to finding him?”

“I would not recognize him.”

Agron had known fear. He had hidden it on the slaves market, during the auction. But it had been there, eating away at him until he found relief. Yet Nasir was a small child when he had been sold and ripped from his brother. He couldn’t comprehend the fear he must have experienced. And now he had no hope of the relief of reunion to balm it. He opened his mouth yet it was not Agron who spoke.

“Apologies.”

Agron turned his head to his brother in surprise.

“Brothers should not be parted,” Duro continued. “I would not see mine from my side.”

Agron held out his arm and clasped Duro’s. For the first time since their argument he smiled at him. After, he faced Nasir again. “What do you recall of him?”

Then, in the middle of a brothel, they managed to have a conversation about the distant past, of another life. For the first time Nasir’s eyes softened. Slavery no longer holding its appeal, no longer worth the safety. Agron hoped.

 

The tension eased between them, giving way to familiarity over the coming months. The days they stood in silence as they attended their master but the nights they spent together. When they scraped the oil off their skin, Agron’s gaze would linger on Nasir and more than once he caught Nasir’s eyes on him as well. Duro no longer seemed to mind or rather he pretended not to notice.

That morning their dominus led them on a different path through the city, one that became more evident as Agron noticed the arena growing larger with each step. He was not allowed inside the pulvinus. That task lay with Nasir. But he lingered just outside and it was enough to hear the crowd crying for blood and cries from the gladiators themselves as it was spilled.

He knew that, had Flavius not bought them, he and his brother would either be there or dead already under one of the gladiator’s blades.

Curiosity got the best of him and he stepped out onto the pulvinus. Nasir shot him a wary glance but Agron did not move. Instead he fixed his eyes on the battle going on before him. It had been too long since he’d seen a fight, let alone participated in one, and he could feel the blood rushing in his veins at the memory of a sword in his hand. If he had one, what wouldn’t he give to to stab all the masters here and leave with his brother and Nasir. But all he could do was focus as the crowd shouted “Spartacus!”

The Champion of Capua faced two opponents at once. He stepped onto the sands, wielding swords in both hands. Dutifully waiting for the order to begin, he stayed his hand until his opponents charged him before springing into action. Given Spartacus’s size, Agron watched carefully to see how the fuck this man became champion.

He saw why when the other gladiators barely lasted ten minutes.

He only tore his eyes away once Nasir lay a hand on his arm and nodded back. Agron took the signal for what it was and left to rejoin his brother, only to find him right behind him.

“ _Move._ ” Agron pushed him back until they were outside of the pulvinus, their observation of the games gone unnoticed.

 

Duro had a habit lately of hurrying his walk to the slaves quarters, giving Agron and Nasir more time to talk on their own. Agron didn’t question the implicit permission-- after all, he didn’t need it. But he was still grateful for it.

“You saw the games,” Nasir spoke after a few moments. “What are your thoughts?”

Agron stared ahead of him and slowed his pace even more. “Duro and I would have fought there, if we’d been sold to ludus.”

“A fate preferred?”

Agron shook his head. “Duro does not possess the skill.” Then he glanced at Nasir and smiled. “If slavery is my path, I would rather fate lead me to you.”

Nasir’s cheeks flushed. His lips twitched as though he might laugh as he looked away quickly before his eyes darted back to Agron. “Those are thoughts harbored?”

“Anchored for months.” Agron halted and, once Nasir did, he stretched out his hand to cup his neck. He forgot about the brand until the tips of his fingers brushed across the scarred skin.

“If discovered, Dominus would sell us both to mines,” Nasir said but did not pull away. Instead he leaned in.

“Then we won’t be discovered,” Agron replied before kissing him in that abandoned hall, empty and soundless save for the small, muffled whimpers they drew from each other. And the noise Nasir’s back made as it hit the wall, Agron upon him.

“Not where eyes can so easily set upon us,” Nasir whispered before taking Agron’s hand and guiding him back in the other direction. This was to the baths.

Nasir’s hands slipped from his but Agron continued to follow. His gaze strayed down Nasir’s back to his ass, watching him move and no longer bothering to hide it whenever Nasir looked at him over his shoulder.

Once they reached the pool, Nasir turned to him and waited while Agron closed the distance between them.

“Nasir.” He raised his hands to cup Nasir’s face as he bent down. Nasir rose up into his touch and then stood on his toes to meet the kiss Agron gave him. They remained like that, kissing, slowly building up to more passion as Agron bit Nasir’s lower lip and tugged. He released him. “Do you wish to?”

Nasir’s brow furrowed and his look of desire turned into one of confusion.

“Has no one asked you?” Agron continued, his stomach sinking while his heart pounded with simultaneous sadness and anger.

“There has never been reason to ask,” Nasir admitted quietly.

Agron had to amend the assessment of emotions. This was not anger. This was rage, one he had to take hold of tightly in order to shove it aside and move past it. “I ask now.”

Nasir nodded. “Yes, I wish it.”

Agron ran his hands down Nasir’s body as he moved back in for another kiss. He let his fingers trace over Nasir’s collarbone, over his neck, then down to his chest. Finally, his hand found Nasir’s loincloth just as Nasir began to tentatively explore Agron’s body as well.

Agron took his time removing the cloth, waiting for Nasir to stop him even though he had given permission. Instead Nasir grew bolder and his hand slipped under his tunic to remove it. As soon as Nasir’s clothing was gone though, Agron pulled his hands off.

“Wait a moment,” he said before dropping to his knees.

“What are you doing?” Nasir asked what he must have known the answer to. There could only be one reason for Agron taking his cock in his hand, evoking a gasp and slight shudder in Nasir’s body. “It’s beneath you.”

“You believe too many Roman lies. This is something I want and you deserve.” Agron exhaled against Nasir’s cock before licking along the underside.

“No one has--” Nasir moaned when Agron interrupted his speech by taking him in his mouth.

It had been some time, even longer than he’d been a slave, since Agron had been with another man. Yet he was more determined than ever to bring this one pleasure. As he bobbed his head, as he brought Nasir’s cock into his mouth, he moved his tongue beneath him, cradling his arousal. Nasir’s hands sunk into his hair first. Then, once his knees began to buckle, he grasped Agron’s shoulders while Agron gripped his hip with his free hand, the other keeping Nasir’s cock steady in between teasing his balls with his fingers.

The only sound coming from Nasir’s mouth was his heavy breaths. He quickly descended into pants in between gasps. Then he exhaled sharply in a hiss before groaning Agron’s name. His hips began to move of their own accord, thrusting into Agron. Agron adjusted though it was difficult to do, but something he had no choice to accustom himself to. Once Nasir found a rhythm there were no concerns save for how to bring Nasir the pleasure he deserved.

Nasir was mostly quiet when he came. There were two short, stifled moans as he thrust into Agron’s mouth one last time. Agron remained for a moment before pulling back and kissing Nasir’s stomach. He caught him just as Nasir started to collapse onto the floor and lowered him into a sitting position.

“Gratitude,” Nasir mumbled.

“I should say same.”

Agron kissed his neck. While Nasir, dazed, leaned back into the arms supporting him and tilted his head to give Agron better access. When Agron glanced up at him, he saw Nasir’s eyes out of focus. That didn’t stop Nasir when a moment later he pressed his hand to Agron’s cock, feeling his hardness.

“I would have you inside me.”

“No need to hasten moment.” Agron grinned as he lay Nasir onto the floor and trailed his lips up his torso.

He did not intend to deny Nasir but he had been deprived of loving touches. It was hardly the most comfortable place for either of them. Agron could imagine how it felt for Nasir’s back to press against the hard floor, as he could imagine what it felt to have his hands run over his body. His lips found Nasir’s neck, nipping every now and then. Nasir buried his fingers in Agron’s hair for a moment before his hands swept down Agron’s nape and he clutched his back.

Agron’s cock pressed against his thighs and he ground his hardness against them. There was too much friction but it was not entirely unpleasurable, not by far. Though when Nasir tried to pull him up, he slipped out of his grip, kissing down the path that his hands had already made.

Nasir’s back arched, pushing up into his touch and the press of his lips. Agron grinned against his skin, taking his time to draw out faint moans from his now lover. But, not wanting those soft cries to grow too loud, he moved up to kiss Nasir on the mouth. Nasir held him into the kiss, parting his lips and giving Agron the opportunity to pull on the bottom one again.

“Agron,” Nasir whispered. “Now.”

If there were no risk, no reason to stop, Agron would have worshipped Nasir’s body all night, in spite of his pleas. Instead he pushed himself away from him and reached for one of the vials of oil, meant to cleanse and now used for a different reason. He slicked his fingers and pushed one inside of Nasir. He didn’t question why Nasir was so loose and relaxed. He did not care to think of it. All he cared about was kissing Nasir’s lips again before moving on to his throat.

He quickly pressed another finger inside of Nasir and that was all that was needed.

“Nasir.”

Nasir touched his cheek, pressed their lips together one last time, and nodded. Agron pulled his fingers away and coated his cock with the remainder of the oil. When he moved inside of Nasir, he had to relinquish the hold his teeth had on Nasir’s throat. Nasir’s head was now even with his neck and Nasir took advantage of it by returning the attention Agron had given him. But he had to pause to gasp when Agron thrust deeper inside him, burying himself in his warmth and feeling the tightness of him.

Agron let out a breath. His hand went to Nasir’s hip to hold him steady. Breath ghosted along his neck and he heard Nasir’s moan against his skin. Fingernails dug into him once Nasir dragged them down his back. He held onto him as Agron rocked forward, bearing into him harder but never rough. He stroked Nasir’s hip with his thumb, pushed back his hair with his other hand, and pressed him close against his body. Then he reached between them to stroke Nasir slowly and in time with his own thrusts.

He bit back his own moans and knew from the stifled sounds that escaped Nasir’s throat and how Nasir bit down carefully, always carefully, on his neck, that he was doing the same. It didn’t take long before he spilled across Agron’s hand and his own stomach, soon smearing across Agron’s own.

With Nasir’s soft groan echoing in his ear and the way he trembled beneath him, Agron let himself go. He only lasted a few more thrusts before he found his climax inside of Nasir. Letting it overwhelm him, he closed his eyes to focus on the pleasure as each muscle shook then relaxed until he melted. Collapsing on top of Nasir, he heard a faint chuckle from him until hands slowly nudged him to the side.

“Apologies,” Agron mumbled once he realized that he was crushing the significantly smaller man.

“Never let word pass from your lips to me again.” He pushed himself up onto his elbow and surveyed Agron. “Did you leave mark?”

Agron quickly took in Nasir’s body, the cum that was spread across his stomach, knowing that yet more was inside of him. He smiled at the sight. “No.”

Nasir let out a sigh of relief. He glanced down at himself. “Let water pass over skin, I need no physical reminders of this night. Memory will hold firm in mind.”

“As in mine.” Agron grinned and drew him close to kiss him before ceding to necessity and cleansing all evidence of their coupling.

 

The remaining weeks were spent with stolen kisses and wandering hands in abandoned corridors and the baths. When they were together, attending to their dominus, Nasir’s mask broke as he kept looking at Agron and smiling.

He wasn’t the only one to shoot glances his way. The other slaves took notice of their absences and the change in both of them. But, judging by his lack of reaction, no one had told the dominus.

“What if it all goes to shit?” Duro asked randomly one day, finally slipping into Latin.

“What?”

“You and Nasir. If Flavius learns of it--”

“He won’t.” As far as Agron was concerned that was the end of it. It was more likely that Nasir would grow tired or scared of it before their dominus learned what was happening.

That worry was difficult to think of when he found Nasir that night. Sent to fetch wine, Agron followed him into the cellar after a few moments.

Nasir turned as he heard Agron coming. “Feet should not have carried you here.” And yet while he spoke, he put the wine aside and walked over to meet him.

Agron quickly brought him into his arms, even going as far as to pick him up so he could better kiss him.

“I am not so small,” Nasir chided.

“You are.” Agron grinned but set him down. If Nasir would rather he bend over to kiss him, he would gladly risk the strain in his neck, a neck that Nasir stroked while he kissed him softly. Agron attempted to deepen it and pull at Nasir’s lip but his lover drew back.

“Agron.” He let his hand glide down to his chest until it met the tunic he wore. “Regardless of what Dominus desires, I would not have you condemn yourself to mines.”

Agron laughed. “What do you speak of?”

Nasir’s look was far more somber than any he had seen on him before. Agron’s face fell when it dawned on him.

“No,” he said.

“His desires run high when he partakes of wine. I must.”

Agron caught his wrist when Nasir started to turn. “No,” he said more firmly.

“We are slaves.” Nasir slowly pulled his hand free of Agron’s grip. “We stand absent choice.”

Agron opened his mouth but he found no words for this. A moment later he clenched his jaw. “I won’t let him fucking touch you.”

“Then see us both to the mines,” Nasir’s words were harsh. He took a deep breath later and bowed his head. “Apologies. Yet I must ask this of you. Give promise.”

Agron stared at Nasir, who stood resigned, every bit the slave he had first met. When he finally lifted his gaze and met Agron’s eyes the emptiness in them broke him. “Nasir--”

“Give promise,” he repeated.

Agron bit his tongue. Some part of him had known it would come to this, ever since he had stood outside while Nasir had been taken before.

“Return to bed. Duro can stand guard for you.” Nasir took the wine and brushed past Agron to ascend the stairs.

Agron stood still for some time, listless, fighting the images that ran through his head. When he finally left the cellar he was only a body. But instead of returning to the slaves quarters he found himself in the hall outside of his dominus’s room.

He could already hear him fucking someone and for a moment he thought it was Nasir. His hands clenched into his fists and Duro, just outside the doorway, stepped in front of him.

“Agron--” Duro started but he brushed past him, shrugging off the arm that clutched at him.

“Tiberius,” came Flavius’s commanding voice, no doubt about to order him to be used for his own pleasure, giving no thought to Nasir’s own desires.

He wasn’t going to do it again.

Agron charged into the room. Flavius was there, buried inside Chadara or whatever her name was. Nasir’s hands were on his loincloth to pull them off when his eyes snapped to Agron and he quickly stepped to move between him and his dominus.

“Agron, stop this,” he hissed as he laid a hand on his arm, much as Duro had done. And, just how Agron had reacted to his brother, he coiled his hand around Nasir’s and pried it from his arm. But the intervention had accomplished something. His dominus had stopped and removed himself from Chadara.

Agron halted just before his dominus instead of beating the shit out of him with every part of him that could punch, kick, and knee him.

“Service is required of Tiberius,” he lied and could not keep the anger from his voice.

“What fucking service? I am the dominus of this house. I give command.”

Seeing that the one excuse he had had failed and hearing the dominus bark his orders with no regard to them. Treating them as an object, Agron couldn’t stop the words that shot out of his mouth. “You command shit!”

Flavius walked to him and Agron quickly pushed Nasir aside and out of danger. When his dominus backhanded him, Agron responded with a punch. His dominus reeled back and Agron pressed his advantage, seizing his hair and pulling him back into his fist again.

Nasir came up from behind him, saying something, attempting to pull him off. Duro spoke as well, no doubt coming in to either stop him or provide back up. It was hard to tell as when Duro pushed between Agron and Flavius, he elbowed their dominus’s face. Agron heard words but never registered them. Nasir tried to pull him off again but Agron shrugged him away too violently and he fell. It was only then that Agron stopped, turning to help him. Just as he did, heavy footsteps alerted him to the arrival of the guards.

The guards that came did not wait for any order. Hands clamped down on Agron’s arms as he was seized and dragged. Beside him, Duro was hauled away as well. Still spitting curses, Agron’s eyes landed on Nasir’s horrified face, blood streaming down his nose, before he was torn away from him. He carried that image with him as Flavius barked an order.

Struggling throughout, the guards still succeeded in chaining him and Duro to a wall and no matter how he fought against it, the manacles would not break.

As he breathed, as the anger cooled, he recalled Nasir’s warnings. Many times, stated firmly at the beginning, whispered between kisses, and then the last time as he fetched wine. He had begged him to restrain himself. He made Agron promise. In the end Agron had failed.

Even Duro had no jests for this. They remained in silence, both of them contemplating their fates. Agron thought of Nasir’s. If their dominus hadn’t realized on his own what had caused Agron’s rage then one of the other slaves might have supplied. Nasir might share a similar fate to their own, one that Agron imagined would have them either crucified or sent to the mines.

No one came for them that night or that morning. It wasn’t until what Agron guessed to be late noon that he heard someone approach. Bracing himself for an encounter with his dominus, Agron waited until a different voice reached him through the door.

“Agron, Duro.”

“Nasir?” Agron tried to move closer to him but his wrists were raw and any movement made the chains chafe against his skin.

“I have but short time. Dominus will send you to Batiatus’s ludus. He expects your deaths and seeks coin for it.”

Duro laughed. “A better fate than the fucking mines.”

Agron saw no cause for relief. “What of you?”

Nasir paused. “I will steal key and come for you tonight. We may yet escape.”

Agron and Duro exchanged a look. Duro nodded his confirmation. If this was their chance at seizing freedom, it would be the last one.

“You would risk this?” Agron asked.

“I would risk all. Agron--” Nasir cut himself off and there came the sound of distant voices. “This night.” Nasir reminded him.

“Nasir--” He wanted to apologize for bringing him any pain, both to his mind and body. But his footsteps told him that Nasir had already slipped away.

Duro tried to grin. “Whatever happens, brother, we meet it together.”

Agron slumped against the wall, unable to feel anything but the twisting in his stomach.

 

They had gone over what they knew of the layout of the country and what paths they might take. Nasir might know more but it was best to have some idea, especially since he had only come to thoughts of escape now. Eventually their whispers faded as they waited. And waited.

Nasir did not come but when they heard screams coming from the villa, Agron sprang to his feet.

“Fuck.” Duro, like Agron, tried to wrench himself free of his chains. Both of them failed.

“They’re crucifying him!” came the first panicked thought that entered Agron’s mind.

“No, listen!” Duro hissed.

Between the screams, Agron heard the crack of a whip. One, two…

Agron lunged forward, bringing all his weight against the chains but only succeeding in making himself yell from pain as his hands took the force of it.

Seven, eight…

This was his fault. “I’ll fucking kill them all! We’ll escape ludus and--”

Duro cast a meaningful glance at the door. “We will but silence yourself.”

Agron bit his tongue until he tasted his own blood. He sank against the wall.

Thirteen, fourteen…

And then it ended. But not Agron’s racing mind.

By the time morning came, he had a thousand plans ready, each of them just as reckless. And, once he was shoved out of the villa, equally fruitless. His hands were chained too tightly together, along with his feet and he was bound to Duro as well. But more than that, he couldn’t see Nasir as he passed through the grounds. None of the slaves would meet his eyes. He could ask no questions. He may never know what had happened or where Nasir was. If he was alive but condemned or…

If he had nothing left to lose, if it weren’t for his brother, he would have grabbed the sword from the nearest soldier. But Duro was with him.

He was with him throughout training and when they earned the mark of the brotherhood, but failed to provoke laughter from him as he used to. Without Nasir, Agron had two concerns: to find him and to protect his brother. Gradually, he had to accept that the former was a thing that would never come to pass. He would never see Nasir again.

That weighed heavy-- more than any chain that bound him when the guards threw him in the cell after Crixus’s outburst, one he understood more than any other here.

“I would caution softer words,” Spartacus told them after Duro received a punch to the face for his insults to the guards.

“Shit keeps rising higher in this fucking hole,” Agron said in response.

“Perhaps it be best not to be present when it fills the mouth.”

All the thoughts he’d held of freedom, of finding his way from the ludus, thoughts he’d tried to displace, suddenly fell into place. He turned his head. “What do you speak of?”

“I speak of nothing.”

Duro now turned his attention to Spartacus as well. “Nothing sounds much like escape. And how would nothing find its way past Batiatus and all his fucking Romans?”

“There is but one path,” Spartacus spoke. “We kill them all.”

 

Leaving Duro’s body and a trail of blood behind him, Agron fought his way from the bowels of the ludus up to the villa. Finally, when he ran into no resistance, he stumbled into a room. The haze of bloodlust slowly lifted and left him uneasy and oddly numb. Even after the planning leading up to this moment and the lives he had taken, the moment was too surreal. He walked without chains into Batiatus’s home. He walked without his brother, half the reason for this escape lost to him before they could even seize freedom.

“Agron.”

He looked up to see Crixus there, a cup of wine in his hand. He was slick with blood as well and the wild look had only half left his eyes. His gaze went behind Agron before flicking back to him.

“Duro?”

The muscles in Agon’s jaw tightened. He shook his head.

Crixus held out his cup. Agron was too tired to regard the gesture with suspicion and took it instead. But he couldn’t bring himself to drain it.

“The man you were parted from, you loved him?

That gave Agron cause to drink the wine, letting the bitter taste flow over his tongue and down his throat to settle in his churning stomach. He didn’t bother to question how Crixus had come by knowledge of Nasir. It was no doubt Spartacus’s doing as he attempted to convince him of their cause.

“I yet do,” he said.

“I will give you aid in his return if you give promise to see Naevia to my arms.”

Agron had hated this man. He had been no more to a fucking gaul to him, one who had done nothing but try to make them all miserable. He kept besting Duro and making him eat the sand they tread upon. And yet now, Agron knew some of his heart. They’d reached an understanding, even if it was only a tentative one.

He extended his arm and Crixus clasped it.

 

The sewers’ stench had been horrid for the first few days. But then, in time, Agron had grown accustomed to it. What he had not was standing there idle while Crixus went in vain search of Naevia despite having given promise. Nasir could be in the mines dying and still they sat here. The only comfort he found was in the slaughter of Roman mercenaries they came across.

They returned from killing yet more Romans in a brothel and Agron followed Spartacus into his room, ignoring that Mira had followed them.

“This is waste of fucking time!” Agron snapped, still reeling from having been deprived of taking Trebius’s life. He stared down at Spartacus, fighting against clenching his hands into fists. “You gave fucking promise. Crixus gave promise yet he--”

"We both told Crixus that we would restore his heart.” Spartacus’s voice was too even, too level headed.

“Fuck Crixus! He’s not the only one who’s lost. He can stay and chase Naevia. I’m for the villa.” He began to leave, walking away from the sequestered area of the sewers in which Spartacus stayed.

Mira stood in front of him. “You would go to your death. What aid could you give Nasir then?”

Agron took a deep breath and opened his mouth but before he could utter a word Crixus pulled back the makeshift curtain that blocked Spartacus’s “room” from view.

“Pause and fucking listen,” he said. “In his last words, Trebius told that Naevia was sent to a villa.”

Agron might have laughed if the veins in his body didn’t feel like they might explode. “We come to fucking sense! If we had not wasted time--”

“Close fucking mouth.” Crixus spat back. “We move tomorrow at dawn.” He looked at Spartacus, half expecting a challenge but instead Spartacus moved to place his hands on both Agron and Crixus’s shoulders.

“Then we will see both hearts restored.”

Agron pushed them both aside. “I would see it now.”

“Agron!” Spartacus started. “Do not seek--”

“I will fucking wait!” he snarled before finding his own pallet and collapsing onto it. But, as with so many nights before, he found no rest. Instead he wondered, dreamed, and feared.

 

After the delay caused by Spartacus, for which Agron and Crixus united in their anger, they set upon the villa. Watching it at night, Agron recalled every room and every touch he’d given Nasir. He remembered when Duro was by his side. He should be now. His throat hurt and chest constricted. It remained that way until they scaled the villa’s walls.

There were more guards than he recalled. Whether that was from the threat of Spartacus, Agron’s actions, or Nasir’s attempt at escape, he could not have said. But he didn’t wait to act. He didn’t let his worry slow his movements. He was the first to sink his blade into the throat of a guard before he could even raise alarm. Spartacus took the next before shouts filled the villa.

Quickly leaving the other rebels behind him, he made his way into the villa. He tasted blood on his mouth, felt it dripping down his skin. His vision narrowed until his sight was solely on the men who had formerly guarded him, the ones that had dragged him to the cell along with his brother, who should be here beside him as he took vengeance.

But he stopped once he caught sight of one of the slaves, trembling by the wall. One of the guards charged him from his flank but with one quick turn and slash, he slit the man’s throat.

“Nasir,” he said to the slave. “Where is he?” He braced himself for the knowledge that Nasir had been crucified or perished in the mines.

Instead of giving answer, the slave’s eyes went over his shoulder and Agron had already half turned when he heard Nasir.

“Agron.” Nasir stared at him, eyes wide with disbelief. He was spattered with red on his face and hands. He clutched a bread knife, dripping blood, but he let it fall to the floor as Agron sheathed his sword and ran to him.

As soon as he was within reach, Agron had Nasir in his arms. He picked him up to bring him level with his face and kissed him. He tasted the blood on Nasir’s lips and him beneath that. One hand dug into his hair and the other wrapped around his back.

“Nasir,” Agron lowered him to the ground, taking in the sight of him. Now that they were close, he could see the bruises on his face and when he looked down, he saw ones on his stomach as well. Agron let out a breath. “That fuck. That shit eating fucking cock--”

Nasir kissed him again, hard enough to silence him and Agron swallowed the rest of his words as he pulled Nasir against him. They stayed like that for a long moment, until the screams and clash of swords finally brought him back to reason.

“Stay by my side,” Agron told him as he slowly eased Nasir from his arms.

Nasir glanced around him. “What of Duro?”

The muscles in Agron’s face tightened as he turned away.

“Apologies,” Nasir whispered.

Agron shook his head and led them on a path away from the violence. He knew exactly where to find his dominus. In the hall outside his room, Chadara and another slave behind him.

Agron pointed his sword at him. “I would have words with you.”

Crixus might have laid claim on him, searching for information, but Agron could just as easily pry it from him. No one else deserved taking his life more, save Nasir.

“I should have had you all crucified.” But Flavius trembled when Agron placed his sword at his throat.

“Then curse gods for loss of own fucking reason. You laid hand upon Nasir--”

His former dominus’s eyes went to Nasir. “Tiberius, I have known you since child--”

Agron kicked him flat onto the ground. “Do not fucking speak to him as if you gave any fucking favor!” He glanced back at Nasir to see his reaction but it was unreadable, a blank expression but with hardened eyes. Yet Agron could tell that there was no disapproval.

He turned to Flavius and grabbed him by his hair. Pressing his sword against his neck again, he continued. “Batiatus sent you a gift.”

“A gift?”

Fuck this shit, if he knew nothing…

“A woman.” Flavius continued at the sight of Agron’s disgust. He shook harder than ever and the snivelling sounds he made left Agron longing to punch the teeth out of that fucking mouth.

Agron glanced back at Nasir. “Have you laid eyes on her?”

“No.”

Agron quickly turned his attention back to the one man who did know. “Give description before I kill you for fucking lies.”

“No! She was here. Tiberius did not lay eyes--"

Agron struck him hard enough to send him sprawling to the floor again. “His name is not fucking Tiberius! Give fucking description!”

Flavius looked at him with wide eyes, blood trailing down from his nose and mouth. “If I do, my life yet spared?”

Agron laughed.

“Yes,” Nasir said for him. “We will send you from villa.”

Agron looked back at Nasir, stunned. Nasir nodded at him, still with that empty expression.

“You have word.” Agron dug the edge of the sword into Flavius’s throat enough to draw a trickle of blood from cut skin. “Speak.”

“Dark of skin, hair awfully shorn, the mark of her domina upon the back of her shoulder.”

“Where did you send her?” Agron asked, knowing that if she had stayed that Nasir would have seen her.

“I do not know. She was put to cart after!”

Used. She had been used as nothing more than an object and passed around to others. As he had done to Nasir so many times.

Agron slammed the hilt of his sword into Flavius’s face. It was as he stepped back to tell Nasir that he would break whatever promise given that he saw him close behind. He reached for Agron’s knife and pulled it free.

“Tiberius--” Flavius gasped. “Promise was given.”

Nasir hesitated. He looked down at his dominus, fingers twisting the knife in his grip. “Agron speaks truth. That is not my name.”

Flavius rose to his feet but before he could run Nasir had grabbed his robes. He pushed the blade into his dominus’s throat and left it there while he released him. Flavius attempted to grab onto him as he flailed but Agron pulled Nasir aside. When their dominus collapsed in front of him, Nasir’s face did not change. Not until he heard a cry behind him.

“You fucking shit!” Crixus yelled and lunged for Nasir.

Agron got his arms around Crixus and hauled him away. “Don’t fucking touch him! He gave all he knew before we took vengeance!”

“Then speak of it!”

Agron still did not release him. “Naevia was put to cart for the next villa. He did not know where.” Only after several more moments of Crixus being still did he let go of him.

“Who are you to take vengeance?” he asked, glaring at Nasir.

“One he has wronged more than you!” Agron spat before Nasir could answer. “And one you gave fucking promise to aid me in finding.”

“Then you will hold to your promise.” Crixus’s face turned to stone and he walked back the way he had come.

Agron still breathed heavily when he gave Nasir his full attention once more. “Did spilling of blood satisfy?”

Nasir stared down at his hands, now trickling blood onto the floor.

“Nasir.”

“I have never taken a life before.”

“A good beginning, to start with that fucking cunt.” Agron ran a hand down Nasir’s back, feeling the raised scars where he’d been whipped.

Nasir nodded in response. “I would do so again.”

“What happened?” Agron asked as his hands traced down yet more marred skin. “I heard your cries that night.”

“I was not careful in stealing key. Dominus almost sent me to the mines but my loyalty served me well. He stripped me of title of amanuensis yet he remained-- displeased with me.”

Agron took his hands. “And the blood on you when I found you?”

“When I heard you, I knew it was Spartacus. I hoped you’d stand with them.”

“I did. I spilled blood in the ludus.” He paused. “Duro fell to Romans there.”

Nasir placed his blood stained hand on Agron’s cheek. “Apologies.”

Agron shook his head. There was much he could say, expressing his fear that Nasir had been sold to the mines or was dead, that he would never lay eyes on him again. But looking into his eyes, he knew the words were unnecessary.

“Gratitude. I have found my heart.”

“You will never be parted from it again,” Nasir told him with everything in his own heart.

Agron slipped his hand into Nasir’s. “Come, I would have you break words with Spartacus and seize freedom.”

Nasir went along, voicing no protests and never strayed from Agron’s side, as Agron never strayed from his. Never again, Agron swore to himself. He caught the look in Nasir’s eyes. For the first time since being parted from him, he felt lighter.

Never.


End file.
